Medievil: The Fallen Angels
by Kojiokida2
Summary: Time has spun the myth and fairytales of how Zarok was cast into the dark realm upon the defeat of his army a century ago. A century later, the coward of that legend begins a journy to find his courage and set free the souls he let down.
1. Chapter 1

The darkness that spread over the land was the stuff of legend, tales that commoners would tell their children to make them go to bed when they were told, something that was laughed at when used as a threat. Still, when the clouds in the sky turned dark and thundering clouds spread over the land it was clear this was no fairytale.  
The hideous laughter was the most terrifying thing of all, the sound of evil cackling as bolts of green lightning lanced out of the sky and struck the land. It carved the ground open where it struck and out of the dark chasms came demonic pests that not even the worst nightmares could conjure.  
This was the start… the beginning of the terror that was to come. The Shades were soon followed by an army, an army rising out of the earth; below the headstones of every cemetery and unmarked grave throughout the land.  
Un-dead were the most feared form of monster in Gallowmere. This was because the people of the kingdom, by tradition, gave much respect to their deceased loved ones and desecrating the dead was a far more terrible crime than anything done to the living.  
So when the dead rose from their graves to assault the royal militia, few were eager to retaliate about those they had loved and buried.  
At first this menace was seen as a plague but it was soon obvious it was far more than this. Towns were overtaken one by one, then cities with the walls and doors torn asunder.  
Gallowmere was being invaded.  
And now, they were at the walls of Castle of the Peregrin line.  
The priestess Sophia, arch-deacon of the order of the Dragon, knew that the battle was lost before it had even begun. The royal guard, elites as they were, had no chance against the army besieging them.  
Zombies in their thousands, assisted by demonic hordes of Fire and Ice were already inside the walls and the foul stench of death was hanging in the air; accompanied by the souring chorus of screams.  
"The King has fallen!" She heard someone call out and she held a hand to her lips in dismay. "The king has…" The repeat was silence by a loud crashing thud and the strangled roar of an Ice Demon.  
"Sister Sophia, the castle has fallen… they…they slaughtered the guard!!" Another sister of the order cried, rushing up to her, terror clear in her wide eyes. "They'll kill us all!" She was beyond help, driven mad by fear and with little time for her; Sophia simply brushed her aside and raced towards the centre of the castle to the throne room where the last of the guard was defying the demonic hordes in a last stand.  
"The king had fallen sir! We must flee!" Some of the soldiers were arguing with the last captain left alive.  
"Never." The offer replied when Sophia arrived via a secret corridor. "I'll not run away. I'll fight to the death against these hordes just as my predecessor did one hundred years ago."  
"Millard, with respect you are not Sir Daniel Fortesque!" The Priestess told him sharply. "Demons do not fall before you like wheat before the scythe. As distasteful as it might seem to you… we must run!"  
The offer stared at her through his visor with wide stunned eyes.  
"Your king has fallen." She reminded him. "Yet his son still lives. Do your duty, sir, protect the royal line." Sophia gestured behind her to the bundle several other priestess' were tending to.  
The crown prince, King Vilhelm's only son, still un-named was now the last of the legendary line of King Peregrin; the royal blood bound to the Red Dragons. Beside the child was the Egg to which he was bounded, mentally and spiritually; an infant Dragon waiting to hatch.  
"They've taken the west wall, sir!" A soldier came hurtling down a corridor towards their barricade. He was clutching at a bloody stump where his left arm should be. It was clear from the pale face and slurred speech that he was dying, yet had managed to drag himself there to report the events. "They're…they are killing all they see with indiscriminate fury… you… please get them out!"  
Then he collapsed to the ground and was dead before he even struck the floor, revealing the five arrows lodged in his back as he toppled over.  
"As dishonourable as it is… I have no choice." Millard consented after a moment. "We can not defend the throne room with the west wall befallen. We must flee."  
"There are passageways through the mausoleum." Sophia told him. "King Peregrin himself had them built. They lead into the mountains."  
The ancient fire mountain that the castle had been built on top of had long since gone to sleep, the heat from the hot molten rock within keeping the castle warm, but was still only held back by a massive floodgate built in an underground cavern. A secret passage behind the throne lead down into this cavern, across a blackened stone bridge before reaching the extensive underground crypt; a resting place for kings and noble warriors.  
The oldest laid to rest in these hallowed tombs were covered in dust and their names unreadable. Whoever they were, they must have done great deeds to be allowed to be laid to rest here.  
"Forgive us heroes of old, we mean no disrespect." Sophia muttered in prayer, hoping the souls which the bones belonged to would understand the intrusion.  
"The Prince must go into hiding." Millard stated, carrying the torch as they took point. "Gallowmere is not safe for him with this horde. He must be taken west to the Isle of Fire and from there, further to lands beyond."  
"But sir, how is he to take up his throne when he comes of age?" One of the soldiers asked.  
Millard was silent for a moment.  
"There is not throne for him to take up." He eventually stated. "As pained as I am to admit it… the line of Peregrin has fallen."  
"No." Sophia disagreed with him sharply. "As long as a single one of them still lives the line will survive."  
Their small group moved into a large stone chamber with a high arched ceiling, decorated with patterns across the large beams that lined it. The floor was as smooth as marble and as Millard raised his torch, names engraved in the wall appeared one by one.  
Millard gasped and sank down to his knees, followed closely by his men and several of the priestess'. Surrounding them were seven stone caskets laid against the walls, each one with a lid baring the honorary mark of a knight. Above these caskets the names of their occupants were engraved.  
They stood in the presence of the legendary Seven Angels.  
Great men of courage and valour, who, at the battle of Gallowmere plains over a century ago had fought through an army of demons to get to their master, the depraved wizard Zarok and slay him.  
There was Karl Sturnguard, the legendary master of the shield, whose almost god like ability to defend against any assault had protected his comrades.  
Next to him was Dirk Steadfast, a wielder of a fabled magic sword that cut through the monstrous hordes like parchment.  
Canny Tim was an archer, a great marksman of under heard of ability. It was he who killed Zarok's champion, the Lord Kardok, straight through the air at, according to legend, a thousand yards. His casket was adorned with an engraved crossbow just below the royal seal.  
The mighty Stanyer Iron Hewer was fabled to be a giant amongst men, wielding a mighty hammer of war that crushed skulls of even the most fearsome demons into dust.  
Woden the Mighty was a warrior so skilled in battle that it was fabled he could take on an entire army by himself, armed with nothing but his own fists.  
The only woman amongst their number was Megwynne Stormbinder, a pilgrim from a land to the south who had come to Gallowmere to escape her husband. Whatever god held sway in the south had granted her use of thunder bolts that scorched anything in their path. With this she had torn the heavens asunder and literally obliterated the demons in her path.  
But the mightiest and most renowned of them all was the one to strike the final blow, killing the evil magician was Sir Daniel Fortesque.  
Even before the fabled battle he was well known for heroic deeds that made the others pale in comparison. He had slain rogue dragons, defeated giants and werewolves single handily and was the only other warrior besides Woden known to take on an army by himself.  
Songs were still sung of how on that day he spearheaded the charge deep into accursed multitude, how demons fell before him like wheat before the scythe and how at last, through mortally wounded, he killed the sorcerer by slicing off his head.  
All seven of these souls had died in heroic combat but Fortesque was held above the rest, his casket decorated with stone angelic wings down either side. These were giants of legend.  
"Millard, we don't have time for this." Sophia told the captain.  
"We must pay homage." The armoured soldier stated coldly, keeping down on one knee and gesturing for her to get down as well. "These are the seven Angels! We must! To not pay them proper passing respect is… is… blasphemy!"  
"Blasphemy you say?" A voice out of the darkness asked in response. "Well well, it appears I arrived just in time." Half a dozen of militia royals reached for their swords but a single gesture of a bony hand sent their weapons flying across the chamber. "Blasphemy is one of my specialities."  
The figure that stepped into the light of the torch was that of a frail old man, with wrinkled skin and sparse silver hair. But still it was clear this was no ordinary person. A pair of spikes jutted out of his cheeks, the skin scarred around them as if they had burst out from within. His eyes were almost completely black accept for a dark green centre that glowed with an unearthly light.  
His robes were a dark red, embodied by gold woven into symbols. Clasped in his thin left hand was a trident staff, the centre spike curved like a flame with a ruby placed within its centre.  
"Really my dear captain, did you honestly believe I did not know about this escape route?" He asked stepped forward menacingly. "I was here when the castle was built. I lived here for twenty years; I know it inside and out."  
"Whoever you are, you knave, stand aside." Millard started, keeping a firm grip on the hilt of his own sword. "I will allow none to threaten our passage."  
The old man stared at him with wide, almost stunned eyes.  
"You don't know who I am… do you?" He chuckled lightly. "Oh this is simply too much. My army's been destroying your kingdom and you didn't even know it was me."  
"Millard, don't!" Sophia tried to warn him but in a blind rage, the captain had already drawn his sword. He tried to run the old man through but with a simple furrowed brow and through some magic unknown, the demonic elder reversed the attempt and the sword ended up ramming through the chest-plate of the captain. Blood spurted out as the top emerged through his back.  
The priestess' carrying the prince and the Dragon egg screamed and huddled together with a scream.  
"Argh…no… the king… my prince… my duty…" Millard gasped, blood running from his lips.  
"Stand firm, protect the prince!" One of the other soldiers declared and those left huddled into a phalanx position to defend the infant babe.  
"Hear my name you fools and tremble, for I am Zarok!" The old man stated, almost spitting in anger now. "Let my name defile the tombs of these seven around me, the idiots who you painted over a century ago as your saviours but who in reality failed!!"  
He jabbed the point of his staff forward.  
"And I levelled this castle not for the child nor its fledgling lizard, although they do make an attractive bonus."  
"You can not be Zarok… you can not…" Zophia began through gritted teeth.  
"Dose thou need further evidence?" The old man asked. "Throughout all the world there are no necromancers as powerful as I! I have lived for over a century, gained powers the likes from the dark realm into which I was cast that make me the most powerful being alive!"  
He smacked the blunt end of his staff down on the ground and it shook beneath them, cracks spreading throughout the ceiling and wall; ancient dust falling down.  
"This castle has fallen because of you, dear Sister Sophia!" Zarok declared. "I know you inherited the artefact from your predecessor and that I want it back! Where is the Anubis Stone?!"  
"You monstrous fiend! I'll never tell you!" She declared defiantly.  
"Oh yes you will!" Zarok snapped. "Willingly perhaps not but you will tell me! The artefacts that were taken from me, one by one, will return to my side. The Dragon gems, Dragon Plate Armour, the Witches Seal, the chalice of Souls, the Anubis Stone and the Shadow demon claw. I will find them all and you are going to help me reclaim them!"  
The soldiers hustled the priestess amongst the others under their protection, keeping them defended by a wall of blades and armour platting.  
"Lady Sophia, what do we do?" The lady holding the baby prince asked in alarm.  
"You poor fools. I could call my army down here and they'd rip you to pieces." Zarok told them all. "Or perhaps conjure up a demon right here and now." He paused, his eyes glancing around at the graves around him and at the names engraved above the stone caskets.  
"What… what are you doing?" Sophia asked as Zarok slowly raised his staff. The old man didn't answer, instead a wicked grin crossed his lips and the ruby in his staff glowed an intense red.  
A shockwave passed through the air, pulsating outwards like a thick blast of hot air. The lids of the stone caskets trembled as it past by, each one suddenly sparking with red lightning.  
"Let's just say I'm not without a sense of irony." Zarok slowly stated.  
The lid to the casket of Dirk Steadfast twitched for a moment, before it pushed open and cashed to the ground as the long dormant body within pushed itself free.  
"NO!" Sophia declared in horror at the sight. The legendary warrior was, by now, reduced to nothing more than a skeleton; clad in rusted armour with a sword by his side. This was the ultimate act of defilement, one of the Seven Angels turned into a thrall.  
The horror did not end there. One by one the caskets opened, the legendary warriors rising from the dead; whatever garments left hanging to them like rags under rusty armour.  
"Behold, my new elite guards; my new bodyguards and protectors!" Zarok declared with glee. "Take the woman! Torture her day and night until she reveals unto me the location of the Anubis Stone!"  
"As you command, master." The thrall that had once been Canny Tim stated, looking over towards Sophia. His eye sockets were empty but through them she could see that the soul of his proud warrior had been torn from the after life and rebound into his bones. He had been turned into an un-dead puppet.  
"I'll defend you my…" One of the soldiers declared, moving forward protectively. Before he could even finished speaking, a mighty blow struck him from above as the warhammer of the thrall of Stanyer Iron Hewer smashed his head into his chest; crushing him.  
Zarok chuckled, watching in sadistic glee as the soldiers were picked apart by these new ghouls. Within minutes there were only two soldiers left to defend the priestess, the boy and the dragon egg.  
The rest were lying scattered, budged and torn across the floor; their blood seeping out almost ankle deep.  
"I could kill the infant and end the Peregrin line right here and now." Zarok admitted, looking thoughtful. "But perhaps not. I think I might raise him to be my own son, train him in the dark arts and tutor him in the art of killing. I did always want an apprentice."  
Suddenly he noticed that one of the caskets had not opened. The one containing the body of Sir Daniel Fortesque was still closed.  
"NO!" Sophia implored. "Not him… leave him alone!"  
"Sir Daniel Fortesque." Zarok breathed, ignoring her. "Well well well… always the stubborn one." He laid a hand against the casket lid. "How did you end up in this place? This is a hall reserved for heroes, not arrow fodder.  
You were the one to have me exiled from the court. I can think of no better revenge than making you my personal Jester."  
He held forth his staff.  
"I said come forth! Obey my command!" The casket shook. "Defiance? Against my magic? Interesting resistance for worm food, Fortesque, but it won't save you." The glow intensified and the shaking casket suddenly when still.  
"Now rise again, Sir Daniel!"


	2. Chapter 2

Finally the lid pushed itself open and Zarok stepped back out of the way as it crashed to the ground.  
There was a rusty creaking of old metal before the skeletal corpse within stepped forth.  
Some of Daniel Fortesque's flesh had survived a century of decomposition, although it was limited to a single eye in the right socket and a patch of scalp holding one side of dirty jet black hair to the side of the head. Apart from this his body was completely parched white bone.  
His lower jaw had fallen away long ago, along with a few teeth from the upper. His armour was not as rusted as his thrall comrades around him and his red cape, still adorned with the symbol of the royal family was in tact.  
"Believe who I am now, dear Priestess Sophia, or do you need further demonstration or incentive to tell me what I want to know?" Zarok demanded, turning to give the woman a glare.  
The eye, freed from the constraints of facial muscle rotated around to stare directly at the ancient sorcerer.  
"Ahhh!" Daniel Fortesque proclaimed in alarm. "Zarok!!" His voice, without a lower jaw, was muffled but the words were just understandable. "Stay back you… you…" The skeleton when for his sword but found that it had rusted in its scabbard, rusted to nothing. "Ah nuts."  
Zarok stared almost in disbelief.  
"Free will?" He asked. "How can you have free will? I rebound your soul, you should serve me."  
"I said stay back!!" Fortesque proclaimed once more, backing up against the wall.  
"How… how on…" Zarok muttered, leaning close to inspect him. Suddenly, a small creature with a worm like body leaned out of Daniel's empty eye-socket.  
"Hello boyo!" It proclaimed, slapping a single eye at the sorcerer.  
"YOU!" Zarok proclaimed.  
"Just because I'm trapped inside a head, doesn't mean I'm powerless." A small cloven hand was held forth, issuing a bolt of concentrated magic right in Zarok's face. Before Zarok had a chance to react, it detonated, throwing him across the chamber to slam into the wall.  
"What are you waiting for, lazy bones?" The creature asked, tapping Fortesque's skull twice. "You may not be good at the fighting my friend but you're certain a top notch at the running!"  
Fortesque needed no more incentive. As fast as his bones would carry him, the long dead knight took off, fleeing as fast as he could the sound of his armour fading.  
"Are you ladies coming?" The voice of the small creature echoed back.  
Zarok managed to pull himself to his feet using his staff as a crutch. His face was a storm of anger.  
"Kill all but the head priestess!" He commanded to the six thralls that had not escaped him, jabbing a finger after them. "And bring me Fortesque's bones, one by one if need be. The Djinn will suffer through all eterniy!"  
"Go my ladies, GO!" The two remaining soldiers proclaimed, ushering the priestess down the stone corridor after Fortesque as the six of the Seven Angels turned to face them; their weapons held at the ready.  
"Hey hey! Go back! They need your help!" The creature proclaimed, leaning out of Fortesque's eye socket. But the knight was too scared to even listen. Every part of his mind was screaming out in terror.  
He was confused and scared like a child. He could not feel the warmth of flesh or the sensation of smell or touch. He couldn't formulate reason inside his own mind. All he knew was that he had to get away, to flee and to be as far away from the dreaded sorcerer as possible. He didn't even notice the cobwebs he was running into.  
"Oh you cowardly camel hump!" The small creature muttered in frustration. "Of all the heads I could get trapped in, it had to be yours!" It rolled out a little ways and glanced back the way they had come.  
Just managing to keep up with Daniel's long stride were the priestess and the two soldiers. Suddenly following them were the thralls, un-dead warriors of the six greatest warriors Gallowmere had ever seen.  
"Oh this is going to get uglier before it gets prettier." The small being muttered. Suddenly Fortesque came to a halt, skidding along the ground and backing up several steps.  
Blocking the exit were several lumbering carcasses, zombies summoned by Zarok to cut off the escape route of his intended victims. Shaking nearly uncontrollable, Daniel tried to back off.  
"To your right foolish bone head… the sword!" The creature inside his head shouted, tapping him twice. Instinctively, Fortesque looked down to see that lying onto of a tomb in the wall was a rusty short sword. "You remember how to swing a sword? I knew you took basic lessons, just use the thing!"  
Snatching up the blade, Fortesque parried forward trying to wound one of the zombies. He was like a cornered animal, lashing out at whatever was nearest. The zombie was a mere puppet, clumsily controlled by necromancy with little to no initiative or reason working within its decomposed brain.  
It didn't even get of the way as Fortesque run it through, green puss spraying out the back. It slumped to the ground, truthfully dead once more.  
"They're coming mistress Sophia!" One of the priestess cried out in alarm, seeing the thralls coming closer. Glancing back, seeing this spectacle, Daniel panicked and rushed forward; slamming his shoulder against the zombies in his way.  
"Not exactly the heroic display I was hoping for but hey, it works." The creature inside his head muttered.  
Zarok however was not about to let them escape.  
"To me, my demons of the hunt!" He declared, his eye glowing bright green. "Rend their flesh asunder!"  
Behind the castle ran a long, swiftly flowing river that went all the way down to the sea. Tied up at a small dock near the hidden exit from the underground catacombs was a small boat. The fire in the castle above were still raging as the demons of fire and ice continued their assault on the abandoned stone but this small emergency retreat was untouched.  
The hidden exit, a fake stone wall swung aside and Fortesque came hurtling out; trapping over the side of the jetty and tumbling into the boat.  
"Are you going to hide under the tarpaulin like little wimp?" The creature inside his head asked.  
"Leave me alone… get out of my head." Fortesque muttered in reply, hugging his knees closer to him.  
"You think I'm here by choice, Effendi?" The creature sounded offended. "There are thousands of places I would rather be than inside your mouldy corpse!"  
The priestess under the protection of the two remaining militia came running out of the exit, shutting it after them. That would be just enough to hold the Thralls off to allow their escape.  
"Quickly, unhook the landing line!" The taller soldier declared. "Get the prince and the Egg below deck. We can ride the river safely out to sea!"  
"It's not going to be that easy." Sophia reminded him.  
"One step at a time."  
The boat was freed from the dock and the swift current began to carry it down river, swaying back and forth unsteadily in the rapids.  
There was a tremendous class behind them and the concealed exit was thrown off its hinges and into the river, bashed outwards by a mighty warhammer.  
The Six Angel Thralls came out but they were too late to stop the boat as it soared off down the river.  
The Thrall that had once been Canny Tim raised its cross bow and fired expert shots, two bolts flying through the air; one hitting a priestess in the shoulder and the other impaling one through the heart. The fatal blow caused the dying woman to topple over the side and into the water.  
"Hey killed Malisa! They killed her!" The priestess clutching the Dragon's Egg proclaimed.  
The wounded priestess had the bolt removed by one of the soldiers and she was taken below to have it treated. Sophia however had an immediate concern.  
"Daniel? Sir….sir Daniel Fortesque?" She began, moving over towards the huddled figure by the lifeboat.  
"No…stay away from me!" The partly muffled voice replied. The priestess moved closer to see the ragged form of the knight. He held his long, skeletal fingers before him. "I…what has…what has happened to me?"  
"Wait!" The priestess tried to stop him but Daniel removed his chest plate, exposing his empty ribcage. He polished the tarnished metal with his cape and looked at his reflection. At the sight of the skull with a single eye in its right socket, there came over him a strange silence that was more disturbing than any cry of anguish.  
"Hey it's not so bad. It could worse you know." Out of the empty eye socket, the small being leaned, propping its tiny arm on the bone. "I hope you don't take it personally. It's what happens to everyone eventually. Decomposition is quite natural."  
"I…I'm a monster." Fortesque breathed and unable to look at himself anymore, dropped the chest plate onto the deck.  
"No…no you're not." Sophia began, slightly unsure of how to comfort one who had been dead for one hundred years. "You're still the man you were. You're still Sir Daniel Fortesque… the hero of Gallowmere, the man who fought through an army of demons with one seven other soldiers to reach Zarok before."  
The little creature in his left eye stared up at here with a stunned expression. Now she could see it had pale golden skin and long, almost elf like ears. Its head was slender and wrapped around itself was a thin stretch of cloth.  
Suddenly it started laughing, clutching its slim sides.  
"Oh that's rich! That is SO rich!!" It laughed. "A hero? Are we talking about the same Daniel Fortesque here?" He tapped the side of the skull. "It's amazing. You're a literal testament to the changing tide of history Effendi. Only a century of time and you got from klutz to legend. You should feel honoured."  
"How dare you talk about one of the Seven Angels like this?" Sophia asked. "And just…who…what are you?"  
"Ah my dear lady, pleased I am to be introducing myself." He began with a short bow. "I am the powerful Djinn Al-Zalam, mightiest of the genies. Well, I WAS." The Djinn paused. "But before we get to my life story, perhaps you ought to do something about Mister Sunshine here."  
"Please…don't look at me." Fortesque started again, holding up his thin bone white hands in a futile attempt to hide his face. "I'm a ghoul. A ragged collection of bone and rotten flesh! I shouldn't be here!"  
Sophia reached out and gently held his hands. He flinched at the touch and for a moment tried to pull away but when she would not let go he looked up at her.  
"You're a human being and nothing will ever change that." She told him sincerely and for a brief moment there was a glistening tear in the single eye.  
"We're being followed!" One of the soldiers declared, gesturing with his broadsword towards the far back from the cliff-face.  
Something was running along the bank, swiftly darting through the long grass and trees. It was moving so fast there was only fleeting glimpses off it through the undergrowth but enough was seen to snow that this was no ordinary pursuer.  
"A Shadowolf!" The other soldier declared, recognizing the monster.  
Three time the size of any ordinary wolf this form of undead was the result of experimentation conducted by Zarok. Merging the corpse of a wolf with one of his Shades, he created this demonic half breed.  
Suddenly it became clear there was more than one. There were six, running in a pack and riding these beasts like horses were the Six Thralls.  
"Oh dear, this is not going to be pretty." Al-Zalam stated as the undead warrior that had once been Megwynne Stormbinder raised its bony hand. Sparks of lightning gathered around her and a distant crack of thunder spilt the air.  
"My friends… my comrades…. No!" Fortesque proclaimed, looking out at the horrible rags his old friends had become. "Don't do this! Fight him! You're stronger than me, all of you. If I can fight him so can you!"  
"I hate to burst your bubble Dan my Man…" Al-Zalam began. "But the only reason you have free will is because I was able to shield you from that part of Zarok's spell. It was the best I could manage with what little power I have left.  
I'm afraid you're friends weren't so lucky. Zarok owns their souls… now and forever."  
The Megwynne Thrall fired a bolt of lightning from its hand, striking the water sending a wave of powerful electricity washing over it; causing the entire boat to rock sideways. A priestess fell overboard and was instantly electrocuted by the energy in the water.  
"All of them… all of them… enthralled to…" Fortesque started as if oblivious to the current state of chaos around him. "Zarok… you… you've stepped over the line!" His hand went for the sword he had taken. "Dead cats and dogs was one thing. I never even got that angry when we found you raising commoner graves… but these… these are my friends!!"  
"Now that's a bit more like it Mr. Fortesque." The Djinn Al-Zalam declared with reverence. "I knew you were tough guy deep down!"  
"The Prince and the Egg, we must protect them." Sophia told him, clutching onto one skeletal arm. "If they die now… the royal bloodline is lost to us!"  
Fortesque glanced back the priestess, one holding a large orange shaded Egg and the other a mewling child.  
"I may not be the hero that history would have me be… but I WAS captain of King Peregrin's royal guard." He started. "I swore an oath to the royal family and I intend to uphold it."  
The skeletal knight turned and looked down the stream. There was a fork in the river, one half heading directly eat and the other further towards the south. The cliff face that ran along the left hand side of the river came to an end at this fork. Much could have changed in a century but this landmark Fortesque recognised.  
"Quickly, downstream! Take the southern river!" He shouted to the two soldiers. The malita men paused, unable or unsure whether or not they should obey the command of an un-dead creature.  
"Do as he says!" Sophia snapped at them and hearing an authoritarian voice they complied, grabbing hold of the rudder and driving the boat sharply toward the right and down the mouth of the south flowing river.  
The Thrall that had been Cammy Tim fired several rounds of bolts but the boat turned as he did so and they simply impacted the stern.  
The boat was suddenly moving fast as the river began to flow downhill, faster and faster but still the lupine mounts the Thralls had acquired kept up.  
"This is my fault… all of it…" Fortesque muttered. "If I hadn't lied… if I hadn't told all those stories… then the king would have… might have…"  
"Concentrate on the here and now boyo." Al-Zalam tapped against the side of his head.  
The river levelled out suddenly and just as Fortesque had hopped, the soggy marshland surrounding it was still here even after one hundred years. The Shadwolf's charged straight into it and were instantly bogged down. The thralls tried to dismount them but the minute they set foot on land they sank as well.  
Only one of them carried on, using the dozens of rocks that jutted out of the marsh as stepping stones.  
Woden had been stubborn in life and even more so in death.  
"Fortesque… come… come with me." The thrall stated, running alongside the river so that it might speak with the knight directly. "Come and join us once more in service to the master." It offered forth a white hand. "Come… be the seventh to our six."  
"Oh Woden, a fate like this for one so proud…" Fortesque breathed. "This is a nightmare!"  
"Will you join us?"  
"Call it cowardice. The answer is no."  
The Woden Thrall did not look amused. It reached for the massive broadsword at its side and drew it with a loud menacing hiss. It smacked it against the side of its mount and the beast speed up, passing the boat as its legs became a blur.  
Fortesque glanced up to see where the Thrall was going. At some point in the last hundred years a rockslide had formed a natural bridge over the river. Galloping up it, the Woden Thrall reached the top.  
As the boat slid underneath, It leapt from its wolfish mount and handed with a thud at the bow.  
"The Master is not taking 'no' for an answer." It stated as it moved forward menacingly, step by lurching step.  
"Alright, this is it target face; draw that sword and fight!" Al-Zalam told him.  
"I can't." Fortesque breathed. "I just can't." He backed off several steps.  
"Don't go back to being a coward now!"  
"You don't understand. I can't… he's my friend."  
"He WAS your friend." The Djinn reminded him. "The being in front of you is a perversion of the true Woden. A puppet belonging to that fiend Zarok."  
Fortesque still backed off.  
"Listen to me my friend, what would the REAL Woden want you to do in this situation?"  
"He… he would want me to fight.  
"Then by all means oblige him."  
Daniel had little choice in the might as the thrall's broadsword came swiftly at him, threatening to cleave him half. Blocking the swing as best he could, the knight stumbled back clumsily before almost falling over.  
"Oh boy you are in need of re-training." Al-Zalam muttered.  
The thrall clashed up, nearly slicing Daniel's arm from his body. Had Daniel not fallen over a pile of ropes he would have lost a limb. Reacting on instinct, he lashed out a kicked the Woden Thrall in the leg cracking the bone. As if unhindered, the Thrall attacked with his sword smashing against Daniel's breast plate.  
Before it could strike again the two soldiers lunged at it from behind and grabbed both skeletal arms and latched on, refusing to let go.  
"Now!" Al-Zalam almost screamed into Daniel's ear. "Attack while he is distracted."  
"Forgive me Woden." Daniel muttered before lashing forward and slamming his shoulder into the Thrall with a deafening thud. The blow knocked the Thrall overboard. The two soldiers clutching onto his arms would have followed had Daniel not grabbed them both before they hit the water and pulled them both back onboard.  
"Ha ha!" The Djinn inside his head proclaimed in triumph. "See! What did I tell you? You've got that fighting spirit in you… meh… although it's a shame it didn't help you with that arrow in the eye."


	3. Chapter 3

While the assault upon the castle had gone as planned, the intended goal had slipped through Zarok's grasp.  
It was mere chance that thwarted him… a single slip of memory that stopped him from recalling that Fortesque had that genie trapped inside his cranium. Once more Al-Zalam had stuck a torn in his side and now the high Priestess had gotten away.  
"With respect lord Zarok, you are already the most powerful being in Gallowmere." His chief Ifrit general stated once the castle had been reduced to nothing more than a smouldering ruin. "If so then why bother seeking these relics?"  
"Ah, foolish creature." Zarok snapped at him. "You have not seen the power of the Anubis Stone… nor the invulnerability of the Dragon Plate armor… nor even the potential of the Chalice of Souls. You have no idea just how far my influence would reach with them all returned to me."  
He stamped the end of his staff down on the ground.  
"The staff of Loki is all I have been able to reacquire thus far… but if this entire world is to be mine I need those artifacts. Only then can eternal night wash over all creation."  
The old sorcerer paused to take in a long calming breath.  
"But I suppose I can afford to be patient. I will find the relics eventually." As he looked out from the balcony upon which he stood before him lay the shattered courtyard. The bodies of the dead militia were being lined up by the zombie legions to make them ready for the transformation into new un-dead warriors. The dark clouds above were gathering in strength. Soon they would blot out the sun and Gallowmere would be forever shrouded in darkness.  
By now, his legions of undead and demons had conquered about a third of Gallowmere. It was time to step up the pace.  
"Take your fiery brethren and go join up with my Boiler Automatons. You march south through Gallowmere tonight!"  
"As you command my lord." The ifrit replied, slapped a magma type fist against its inferno chest before it marched off leaving a trailing of molten slag for footprints.  
"People of Gallowmere, the days of tranquility you knew are at an end." The sorcerer began, laying a hand against the red jewel in his stay. Through his arcane magic he began to speak into the minds of all those that lay outside of his current domain.  
Farmers and soldiers, paupers and nobles; all could hear his voice inside their head.  
"I am the Master, the Lord Zarok. This will be the only warning you will receive. Defy my legions and you will die. Submit however and you may live.  
My new order rises out of the ashes of the crushed Peregrin dynasty and out of the blood of your dead king.  
This time… there is no army here to save you."  
He left their minds, staying just long enough to hear the frightened screams.  
It had taken a century to get back but the struggle had been well worth the effort. While all those responsible for his downfall were long since dead, Zarok found that taking vengeance on their decedents to be just as satisfying.  
"Master, we regret to inform you that the priestess has escaped us." Zarok glanced back as his six newest un-dead recruits appeared before him.  
"I know." He replied. "You failed and I rarely tolerate failure." Slowly he turned around and looked them over. "Just this once however I'm willing to make an acceptation."  
Zarok walked right up to them and studied them each in turn. The ragged remains of their clothes and rusted armour would never do, at least not for serving in his army.  
"Lord Kardok served me well the last time but it will take longer to revive him than originally anticipated. You will take his place as my champions." He held his staff aloft towards them. "My six heralds and agents. My harbingers of death and destruction." The jewel in the trident end glowed brightly and its glow engulfed the six Thralls and began to wrap around them like a blanket. "You are my six Fallen Angels!"  
As a whole the six of them were suddenly covered in new armor, replacing their long rusted garments. It was armour of demonic origin, scared black by hot fires and engraved with symbols that glowed with a near intense green light. Out the back of each came wings of bone, spread wide with traces of darkness flowing out like feathers.  
"I shall rule this land from my own seat of power, the city of Madness." Zarok stated once the transformation had finished. "Peregrin's decedent fort will rot here, a relic of a soon forgotten age.  
You will scour the land for me, leading my armies on their conquests. Burn any settlement that defies me to the ground.  
Search the ruins of every house you destroy, every building, very church and bring me clues as to the whereabouts of my beloved artifacts. The Chalice of Souls, the Dragon Plate armor, The Dragon Gems, the Witches Talisman and the Anubis Stone… bring me them!"  
The Thrall that had once been Karl Sturnguard moved forward.  
"Master, we are not complete."  
Zarok raised an eyebrow questioningly.  
"We are six when were should be seven." The Thrall of Canny Tim explained.  
"Fortesque?" Zarok stuttered. "You want Fortesuqe? The man was a blithering idiotic croquet playing coward in life. Your skills far exceed whatever merge ability he has."  
"We need him." The Thrall of Megwynne told him. "We must be seven again."  
Zarok hissed out through his nose irritably. He disliked any of his minions displaying motives other than serving him still the idea of finding Fortesque and paying him back for having him exiled from the court. And Al-Zalam… that Djinn would most definitely have to pay.  
"Well if you insist. By all means, when you have a spare moment seek him out and bring him to me and I will make him another Thrall." He turned his back on them. "But for now go forth… go forth and aid my minions in the construction of my new empire."

Fortesque stepped off the gangplank and once again onto solid ground. It was obvious the priestess and even the two soldiers whose lives he had saved were glad to see him go. They watched him with unblinking eyes, refusing to let him out of their sight until he was safely off the boat. Fortesque could not blame them… after all, they had the fate of the Prince as their concern and his safety was in jeopardy so long as a creature spawned from Zarok's magic as onboard.  
He envied the prince now. While the kingdom the prince might have ruled was in tatters, at least he still had somewhere to go… for Fortesque on the other hand there was no respite or safe haven.  
There was only the grave left… the only place Fortesque might go.  
"You're not thinking very clearly my friend." Al-Zalam told him. "Just… how you say… take five… and think it over. Fate has given you a second chance and those men rarely get."  
Fortesque sighed and let his shoulders slump, his armour clattering against itself loudly.  
"Second chance?" He repeated.  
"I was there one hundred ago effendi, I witnessed the battle of Gallowmere." At this Fortesque froze, his single eye going wide. "You tried everything to avoid fighting. In the end they dragged you out of bed to face that first un-dead army."  
"You… you didn;'t want to fight?" The skeletal knight whirled out, not expecting to have someone else standing in his presence. The high priestess Sophia had followed him off the boat and was looking up at him with wide, confused, green eyes.  
"Lady Sophia, what are you doing?" One of the soldiers shouted from the boat. The priestess turned around to look back.  
"I'm going with him."  
That proclamation startled even Fortesque. The other priestess' gasped and the soldiers were utterly taken aback.  
"Sophia, please… get back on the boat! He's dangerous." The Priestess holding the precious royal dragon egg shouted.  
"How you all so easily forgotten our morals?" The high Priestess argued back. "The dead have our up-most respect. They are not monsters but men of great honour…" She turned to look back at Fortesque. "And this man of honour needs my help more than the prince."  
The way she looked at him. It wasn't the look of a woman taking pity on a monster, but rather one of understanding and sympathy. Slowly he drew her hood back exposing her face completely. She had long blonde hair tied back into a braided ponytail and her skinned was darkly tanned. The mark that intensified her as a high ranking member of the Order of the Dragon was a tattoo on her left cheek below her eye. It pictured the icon of a red dragon with green eyes.  
"Go. You have your duty. The royal bloodline must survive."  
Unable to argue with that, the soldiers complied and drew up the gangplank; the boat pushing off from the river bank.  
"Hey Dan, I think you have a fan." Al-Zalam told him. "Oh I made a funny."  
They watched as the boat carrying the only hope for the restoration of the royal family drifted down the river, where it would carry on until it reached the coast and relative safety from the hordes of un-dead.  
"So… the legend isn't true then?" Sophia began after a pregnant silence. "You didn't slay Zarok. You didn't fight that army. You didn't die a hero."  
Dan didn't answer and looked almost sheepishly at the ground.  
"Well… he died in battle… let's put it that way." Al-Zalam stated. "Only not the kind of death that good public relations would have. King Peregrin saw to that once that battle was over."  
"Why should I trust your word?" Sophia asked.  
"Are you accusing me of lying?" Al-Zalam sounded taken aback. "In my culture, lying would earn you forty strokes of the cat… and we are very allergic to cats! So for us, that is a terrible punishment."  
"He's… he's not lying." Fortesque began. "You're right. I didn't kill Zarok. I fell at the first charge of battle.  
I was the first to fall… and even then I didn't even see my murderer face to face. I died with an arrow in the eye."  
"The first arrow fired." The djinn leaning out of his eye socket added. "And then, because I wouldn't bend to his will like all the other Djinn's and Ifrits, Zarok cursed me. He took away my powers and trapped me inside his head.  
I had to wait thirty years for the brain to decompose so that I could move around in here. It was disgusting."  
"But…" Sophia started. "But what about the dragons and monsters you faced before the battle? Surely…  
"The king liked to hear stories." Fortesque said, interrupting her. "And I was a very good story teller. Most of those stories were made up."  
Sophia sighed, a long sigh the kind that comes from disappointment.  
"Then I truly am on my own." Fortesque looked up as she trudged off a short distance, staring off into the dark horizon.  
"This is the second chance I've been telling you about." Al-Zalam said and ushered Fortesque over.  
"What task is this?" The skeletal knight asked.  
Sophia sniffed once as if close to tears.  
"Zarok attacked the castle to get to me, not the prince or even the egg. He wanted to know the location of the Anubis Stone."  
"Ah the Anubis Stone… that little trinket." Al-Zalam muttered. "I swear, I haven't the faintest idea what Sekmet was thinking when she gave it to him."  
"The stone is an amplifier for necromantic magic." Sophia explained. "It, along with several other artefacts, where taken from Zarok when his army was first defeated. He seaks to reclaim them.  
I must not allow him to claim the Anubis Stone, which was charged to me by my predecessor. I must not let him take it… or any of the other artefacts if I can help it."  
The skeletal knight was silent for a moment.  
"This stone…could it break Zarok's spells as well as augment them?" The priestess nodded once in reply.  
"The Anubis Stone is the ultimate necromantic relic. It has the power to summon and dismiss Zombies, Thralls and demons easily."  
There was suddenly a hopeful spark in Fortesque's one eye.  
"I may not be a hero my lady, but I will escort you to where the stone lies hidden." He stated a little too confidently. "A coward I may be but I am not without a heart. I can not bear to think of my friends as Thralls, under the command of that evil mad man.  
I have to save them."  
Sophia paused to study Fortesque again… only this time with a more enlightened eye, looking past her own perception of the generic hero she thought him to be. This time she saw the man, the true persona.  
Fortesque was just like any other man… mortal and aware of his own limitations but with a great deal of compassion that had the ability to override his own fears.  
She smiled.  
"Then by all means sir knight." She began softly. "Let us venture forth through this land."  
Fortesque took a place by her side as they made towards a nearby dirt road.  
He couldn't bear to think about what Zarok had done to his closest friends, especially not the innocent Canny Tim nor the beautiful Megwynne.  
There was no denying he was scared. Zarok terrified him more than any demon could but Fortesque was willing to walk through fire to save his friends, and maybe even his realm, from such a horrible fate.  
"You know…" The genie inside his skull started. "We may just make a hero out of you yet."

(authors note: now this where the original story I wrote ended. If it proved popular enough then I continue on. It's that simple really. Enjoy these three chapters until I had incentive to write more.)


End file.
